His use of that word adds another layer to our awkward sandwich. “Thank you, Hoodie. The interview is on my birthday. Not ideal. but at least I’ll get to knock it out in the morning and get to see you that night for the festivities.”
He sits with a sigh, looking rather serious. “There’s something I have to tell you.”
The last of my cheerfulness withers at his words. “That doesn’t sound good.”
He frowns. It lacks sincerity, as if he’s not upset about what he’sgoing to say next. “This project is harder than we expected, and they want it done before the holidays. Our deadline is the week after your birthday.”
His words fall onto my skin like cold rain, as if the melancholy of Seattle is coming through his phone. “You won’t be able to make it to my party.”
“I’m so sorry, Bri.”
The gravity sinks slowly onto my shoulders, crushing me. I won’t see him on the day I want his warmth the most. My heart aches.
“I’ll make it up to you, I promise,” he says. “We can meet up somewhere the following week and have a great time.”
“I’ll have to work, but yeah. We can hang.”
“I’m really sorry,” he says again. I nibble my lip to hide its quivering. “Please don’t cry.”
Too late. I swipe the tear from my cheek, pushing words past the lump in my throat. “It’s okay. It’s not a big deal. I’m just in my head about turning thirty, and I’ve turned a day into a monster. It’s my fault.”
“Listen to me. We’re going to do something really special to celebrate your day, I promise.”
I nod, doing my best to hide the emotion still welling inside me. Of course I want to see him whenever I can, and with the amount of dread I have surrounding my birthday—thisbirthday, specifically—I need my person. But I’m the one who has been pushing him away, telling him we can’t be more than friends when we’vealwaysbeen more than friends.
“A birthday is just a day,” I say. “We’ll celebrate whenever you’re—”
“Shit,” he says, lifting his phone. “It’s Sai again. I have to go, I’m sorry. I’ll call you when I have dates pinned down.”
“Okay. Bye.”
“Bye.”
The call ends, and my arm goes limp, my phone tumbling onto the cushion in front of me.
My life doesn’t feel complete without Liem. If I can land this job, I won’t have any excuse left to push him away.
I need this to work, because I need to be happy again. I need him.
Because I love him more than I’ll let myself admit.
Thirty-four
Bri
Today is my birthday, and I’m about to lose my shit. Scheduling an interview on a day as emotional as today was a stupid idea, but I was paranoid that I’d ask them for a different date and lose my opportunity altogether. So, here I am on my self-imposed death day, trying to beonfor the interview of my life.
I’m not sure I’ve ever been this nervous. If I have, it’s been years. My birthday wish should have been to wake up today a younger version of myself who hasn’t been through a life’s worth of rejections and failures. I recognize that my nerves come from the pressure I’veput on this opportunity. I’ve needed jobs most of my life, but this is the first one I’vewanted.
After years of mourning, health problems, and other reasons to press pause on my life, here on this Le Corbusier couch, staring through the window at the Golden Gate Bridge in the distance, I’m looking my dream in the face, and it terrifies me.
My phone buzzes in my hand. When I look at it, I grin.
Liem: Good luck! You’re going to kill it!
My stomach calms seeing his name on my screen. I can’t think about not being able to see him today or how getting this job might allow me to see himeveryday. Maybe I want this job forusas much as I want this job for me.
“Bri?”
